


Impala, Trenchcoat, Jensen

by mymishaandjensenfic (ljunattainable)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/mymishaandjensenfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At AHBL7, Misha said the three things he'd like to keep from set when Supernatural ends were the Impala, the trenchcoat, and Jensen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impala, Trenchcoat, Jensen

**Impala**

Misha’s been asked the same question in many different ways many different times - What would you like to steal from set? What will you keep after Supernatural finishes? - and he mixes his answers up depending on the day. He probably mentions the Impala more than any other item that comes into his head.

He likes the Impala, sure, even though he himself prefers to drive around in practical, comfortable, quiet cars, and not the noisy, impractical, uncomfortable behemoth that the Impala represents, and is. Except it’s an important part of the show. The longest-running supporting character, herself brought back from the dead a couple of times. And it has a certain charm…

Ah, fuck, who is he kidding. Jensen loves that car. And Misha loves Jensen. How could he not pick the Impala.

**Trenchcoat**

“One of the interesting things about conventions,” Misha muses loud enough to be heard in the other room, “is that nobody knows if you’re telling the truth or making shit up.”

“Uh-huh,” comes a non-committal, distracted grunt. 

Misha rolls over to pick up a pillow that has fallen on the floor, plumps it up and puts it behind his head. He stares thoughtfully at the ceiling. 

“I mean, I probably tell anything from ten per cent to a hundred per cent truth, but who’s to know which is which?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“’Course.”

Misha rolls his eyes in disbelief, but keeps talking anyway.

“The things that people are least likely to believe are sometimes the truth.”

“Like what?” the disembodied voice asks, getting closer. Misha rolls onto his side, elbow on pillow, chin in hand so he can see the door. Jensen steps through moments later, his focus on the two steaming cups in his hand, both filled almost to the brim. He looks mighty fine in one of Castiel’s original trenchcoats, bare bow legs showing below the hem, a long vee of naked chest stretching down almost to his navel where the belt of the coat is tied in a knot to keep the impromptu robe together. 

Misha grins. “Never mind,” he says with a wink. “Come back to bed.” Jensen shakes his head, not understanding, but doesn’t ask for elaboration as he puts the cups down on Misha’s nightstand and pulls at the knot to undo the coat. “And leave the trenchcoat on.” 

**Jensen**

Misha said it quickly. Three things he’d keep when Supernatural finishes, and one of them is Jensen. 

As a rule, things don’t nag and worry at him. As a rule, things said in a panel are forgotten almost as soon as he’s said them. It’s not that he doesn’t think about what he says at the time, he certainly tries to anyway, but once it’s out, it’s gone. Next question please.

But of course, this one nags at him and he’s not stupid enough to wonder why. He knows perfectly well why. Supernatural will finish and he and Jensen will be busy with other projects and they’ll have to make the time and effort to see each other, and maybe that’ll simply prove to be too hard.

In the panel, Misha unwittingly told a truth, one he’d never voiced out loud before. Jensen is friend, confidant, mentor, lover. He’s Misha’s other significant other – why wouldn’t he want to keep him?

“Penny for them?” 

Misha startles. Jensen’s warm, bare arm wraps itself around Misha’s shoulders from behind and Misha drops his head backwards onto the back of the couch to look up into Jensen’s face.

“Just thinking,” he says, mentally shaking the unwelcome worries away.

Jensen kisses Misha’s forehead and nuzzles his hair.

“You were thinking pretty loud.”

Misha huffs. “Sorry.”

“So, penny for them?” Jensen circles the couch and sits, one leg folded up beneath him so that he can look at Misha. Misha avoids his gaze in a way he hopes is not too obvious.

“Just wondering what’ll happen when it ends,” Misha says, being deliberately vague and trying to sound as if he doesn’t really care, but fuck, he really, really cares.

“It won’t,” Jensen replies.

Misha smiles as he says, “The show will never end. That’s definitely what we tell the fans,” he glances sideways. Jensen’s looking unusually serious and Misha’s smile slips away.

Jensen leans in to flop against Misha’s side, his head on Misha’s shoulder. Misha's expecting some term of endearment when Jensen murmurs into his ear. “You're a fucking idiot."

Misha can't help his spluttered giggle. "That was romantic."

"You’re not talking about the show, and neither am I. It will never end. We will never end. Unless you want it to. Do you want it to?”

He shouldn't really be surprised; Jensen can read him so well. He shakes his head slowly. No, he doesn't want it to end.

"Good." Jensen sits up and swivels his bare feet into Misha's lap. "Now stop moping and give me a foot rub. My right heel is killing me from wearing those new boots all day."

"I was not mop...."

"Foot rub."


End file.
